


Stollen Kisses in the Dark

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky's been rescued for the Hydra facility, CA:TFA, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, He needs Steve to take care of him, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neck Kissing, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is good at making his Bucky feel safe, War Era, but he's not alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two men lay on the cot, soaking up each other’s warmth and all Steve wanted to do was hold Bucky until he felt safe. All he wanted to do was sooth away Bucky’s fears, hug him, kiss the back of his neck-</p><p>No. That wasn’t right. Steve would be lying he said he hadn’t thought about it but to kiss him now would be to take advantage of his vulnerability. He wouldn’t do that to Bucky, not ever. But then Bucky shifted in closer craning into Steve’s touch, aching for the comfort.</p><p>As Steve caved, there was nothing sexual motivating his actions. All he wanted to do was comfort him, to show him he was safe and…loved…fuck…Steve loved him didn’t he?  He hesitated a moment, before his lips pressed, soft, and damp against the flushed skin, and the second he kissed him, Steve felt Bucky's body go tense, and the blood in his veins went icy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stollen Kisses in the Dark

The cool night air, heavy with the scent of wet earth, prickled softly across the exposed skin over the collar of Steve’s dress uniform. It was getting colder now, although the chill didn’t bother him too much as he made his way from the bar, with it’s laughter, and music, and amber light, back to the silent barracks tent. The dark olive jacket, with its starched collar, and medals pinned to the lapels had seemed appropriate for the evening of celebration, but it had grown late, and Steve was aching for the comfort of casual clothing. He wanted nothing more than to shrug off the uniform and slip into a soft t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants. The serum was working quickly on his injuries from the rescue mission, but he was still sore. He could feel his cells regenerating, feel his body healing itself as sore muscles repaired themselves and bruises healed at an accelerated rate, but still, his body cried out for rest.

Steve pushed back the heavy canvass flap of the barracks, stepping into the empty stillness of the tent. He made his way through the familiar rows of uncomfortable cots as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, occasionally feeling his way around an unforeseen obstacle. Although it was full dark already, Steve had retired from the bar early, at least, early in comparison to the other soldier. The men from the base, as well as the liberated member’s of the 107th were still all at the bar, drinking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. They certainly wouldn’t be back until late, or, early, depending on how long they pushed themselves.

The blond haired man blinked rapidly, still clearing the blotches from his vision when he saw a huddled form lying on his cot. Steve startled a moment, easing back just a pace before realization settled in. Whether he could see the man’s face or not he knew him. He would have known him from smell alone. He would have known him from the rounded curve of his shoulders or by the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Steve knew his every inch, his every mannerism, inside an out.

"Bucky?" He asked softly, uncertain as to why his best friend was here. Steve had thought he’d been out with the other men at the bar, drinking, and relaxing; soaking in the sensations of freedom and the warmth of a woman’s mouth. Instead, he was curled up on his cot, his shoulders hunch, knees drawn close to his chest. Bucky didn’t move, but as Steve drew nearer, he saw one corner of his mouth lift in a halfhearted smirk.

"Sorry, this cot’s occupied…" He drawled, his Brooklyn accent slipping out with the slightly slurred cadence of his words. The remark was easy, and offhanded, but Steve knew better than to fall for Bucky’s bluff. As good as it was to hear his familiar voice, to hear him joke, Steve knew from a glance that he wasn’t all right. Bucky was in bad shape, and he was trying his damnedest to hide it.

He shed the starched jacket, with its medals and pins, laying it over the foot of the cot. His footsteps were muted against the packed dirt floor, his breathing quiet in the dark tent. Steve paused for a moment at the edge of the cot before reaching down to softly ghost his fingers over the material covering Bucky’s back, gently touching between his shoulder blades. He and Bucky had always been physically affectionate, even since they were boys. They’d always hugged each other, and gripped the other’s shoulder. They’d always found their hands resting absently on each other’s backs, or their shoulder pressed together wherever they sat. So the thought had never crossed Steve’s mind that one day Bucky would actually flinch at his touch.

The dark-haired man’s muscles tensed under Steve’s gentle touch. He curled in in himself, dragging a sharp hiss of air through his clenched teeth.

Steve startled, pulling away, taken aback by the reaction. “Bucky? He breathed softly, feeling alarm rise in his chest, his mind suddenly alert. He watched as Bucky lay on the cot, stiff, and rigid, his body tense with fear. And then slowly, his let out a shaky gasp, his taunt muscles seeming to relax. When he spoke, his voice sound tried, and broken. It lacked all of the cockiness and bravado that Steve was used to hearing. He just sounded scared. And very, _very_ small.

"Sorry Stevie…" He whispered, drawing what Steve realized was _his_ jacket tighter around his shoulder. "M’little tense."

Tense, Steve was sure, didn’t _begin_ to cover it. Bucky had been a prisoner. He’d been tortured, he’d been subject to god knows what kind of testing, made into a human lab rat. He’d been drug through an escape he’d hardly been healthy enough for, and under all his show of strength, Steve had forgotten he was broken. He realized now, and he hated himself for forgetting. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

In the silence of the empty tent, Steve slowly eased himself down onto the cot, fitting himself along the curve of Bucky’s body. This time, Bucky didn’t flinch. He laid perfectly still, allowing Steve to curl in around him. The brunet’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Steve’s strong arms slid around him, drawing him in, wrapping him in a feeling of safety, and familiarity. This had been what he’d sought when he’d retreated to the barracks. This had been what he’d craved so desperately when he’d wrapped himself in Steve’s jacket, inhaling his scent as he curled against the rough canvass of his cot. Bucky had wanted so desperately to feel safe, and now, wrapped in Steve’s arms, he finally did.

Bucky closed his eyes slowly, relaxing into his best friend’s arms. He could feel Steve’s chest rising and falling against his back. He could feel Steve’s breath hot on his neck. Bucky had been through too much to feel anything other than relief at the familiar contact. He knew Steve expected him to be a wise ass, come up with some stupid crack to make them both laugh, but he couldn’t. He was too tired.

The two men lay on the cot, soaking up each other’s warmth and touch for as long as their privacy lasted. Steve didn’t assume they would see anyone else soon though. They were all too engaged at the bar, and they could have their fun; all Steve wanted to do was comfort Bucky. All he wanted to do was hold him until he felt safe, until the nightmares slipped away and he could laugh with him again. All he wanted to do was sooth away Bucky’s fears, hug him, kiss the back of his neck-

 _Wait_. No. That wasn’t right. Steve would be lying he said he hadn’t thought about it but still. Bucky was his best mate, and besides that, he was hurt, and frightened. To kiss him now would be to take advantage of his vulnerability. He wouldn’t do that to Bucky, not ever. But then, oh god, Bucky shifted in closer, pulling Steve’s arms tighter around him, pressing his back firmly against his chest. The dark haired man drew in a shuddering breath craning into Steve’s touch, aching for the comfort.

As Steve caved, and leaned in, there was nothing sexual motivating his actions. All he wanted to do was comfort him, to show him he was safe and…loved…fuck…Steve loved him didn’t he? The blond leaned forward, curling in tighter against Bucky’s warm body, letting his lips ghost, ever so softly, over the back of Bucky’s neck. He hesitated a moment, before a little shiver wrack Bucky’s body and concern suddenly flooded Steve’s chest. He softly gripped his fingers into the brunet’s side, and kissed the back if his neck. His lips pressed, soft, and damp against the flushed skin, and the second he kissed him, Steve felt Bucky's body go tense, and the blood in his veins went icy. 

Bucky reacted. He didn’t flinch, or pull away, but he definitely reacted. All movement ceased, Bucky’s breathing going oddly still. His body had locked into one position. It was like everything had frozen. Steve could swear his heart had stopped in his chest, and a pin drop could have been heard on the compact dirt floor of the barracks as he waited for Bucky to process the gesture. Steve mouth went dry. He’d made a terrible mistake. It had been a kiss, a _tiny_ , close-lipped kiss, but it had been a _huge_ mistake. Bucky was frozen in his arms; probably trying to figure out how to best process his panic and finding out his best friend was a freaking invert. That one, little kiss would throw their entire friendship off balance. He was sure of it.

Steve swallowed hard, feeling Bucky’s shoulder open up a bit as he drug in a deep breath. He held it for just a beat, and then Bucky’s shoulders quivered, and a short little bark of laughter escaped his lips.

"Stevie," he rasped with a familiar smile. "Yer treat’n me like a dame."

Steve tried to swallow back the knot that had formed in his throat, but it refused to budge. “Sorry.” He murmured, half tempted to kiss his neck again in apology, but he knew he couldn’t. He’d indulged himself once already; that was more than he’d deserved. It seemed like Bucky was going to brush it off, dismiss it as a moment of oddity, a lapse in sanity, or however he wanted to think of it. It didn’t seem like he was going to address it again, and Steve was grateful. He moved to settle in against his back again when Bucky’s hand slid back, nestling gently into Steve’s hair. He found himself held in place, his mouth still almost touching the soft damp spot left behind on Bucky’s skin from Steve’s stolen kiss.

"Breath’s all warm…" He murmured softly, sounding exhausted. He wasn’t tired. _Tired_ was when you could drift off; when you could lie in you’re own cot and forget about your aching muscles long enough to go to sleep. Bucky was _exhausted_. He couldn’t sleep. He hurt too much. He was too haunted. He didn’t want anything but Steve’s comfort. If he could have that, than there was nothing else he could ask for.

The blond exhaled softly, his breath ghosting over Bucky’s neck, warm, and comforting, carrying the ever so faint scent of scotch. At the sensation of Steve warm breath whispering over his batter skin, Bucky weakened. A soft sound slipped, unwarranted, from Bucky’s lips, his fingers tugging gently through Steve’s hair. It seemed…almost needy, almost _desperate_. The reaction sent heat spreading through Steve’s body, pooling in his stomach, and tingling down his arms and legs, all the way to his fingers and toes. He _had_ to try once more. Bucky’s reaction had spurred him to recklessness, and once more, Steve pressed his warm lips to the back of Bucky’s neck.

This time, Bucky didn’t freeze, he didn’t scoff or manage a weak, teasing remark. He didn’t pull away. He buffered for a moment, and then, to Steve’s shock, he turned slightly, shifting his head to expose the length of his neck. His throat was a slash of pale white in the darkness of the barracks, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Steve was captivated, frozen by the wordless invitation. Was there any way he could be misreading this? Was that even possible when he’d kissed Bucky’s neck and he’d turned his head to invite more?

Steve hands had gone suddenly shaky, almost more intimidated by Bucky’s receptiveness than by the concern of rejection. He hadn’t said a word, but his body language couldn’t be denied. Steve had kissed his neck, and Bucky had exposed himself for more. Slowly, tentatively, Steve turned his head into the crook of his best friend’s neck, Bucky’s chin, and collarbone framing his cheeks. He paused, waiting for a moment in case Bucky changed his mind, or gave him some signal that Steve had misread him. But Bucky didn’t pull away. He shifted, opening his position up to him to that he was almost lying on his back rather than his side, his head tipped back. The sergeant’s finger tugged softly though Steve’s hair, pulling him closer.

Steve swallowed the bait. He nuzzled into Bucky’s neck, parting his lips and pressing an open mouthed kiss to Bucky’s throat. He was fully commuted now. There was no way either of them could brush off a kiss like that as strictly platonic. The first two- maybe- but not this one. If Bucky had thought, for some reason, that the last two had been purely familial, he would have just been struck with a rude realization: that Steve’s gestures of affection weren’t just as a friend; that Steve was in love with him.

For as long as it could last, Steve allowed himself to enjoy it. He could feel Bucky’s blood racing below his open mouth. He could feel his Adam’s apple bob uncertainly against his lips. _God_ he wished he never had to stop. But he did. This was a far throw from the innocent little peck he’d touched to the back of his best friend’s neck moment ago. He was fully kissing his neck now, and Steve had to make sure Bucky was alright with that. And whether he was or wasn’t, they would have a _lot_ to talk about.

Steve reluctant pulled back, knowing that as soon as he did he’d have to look Bucky in the eye and face him. There was no use sitting in blushing silence. The second Steve had drawn level with Bucky once more, he spoke up, ready to face the consequences of his actions directly. “M’sorry, I got carried away.” He breathed honestly, knowing that, even with Bucky’s silent invitation, he should have kept with the soft, close-mouthed kisses.

Bucky stared at Steve, lying on his back now, looking stunned, and almost childishly small in Steve’s large jacket. His lips were parted with surprise as he stared up at him, not looking shocked, or alarmed, but confusion was writing all too plainly across his features. “You…never told me-” he started uncertainly, looking lost, like he couldn’t begin to comprehend why Steve wouldn’t have trusted him with something so huge.

"Thought you might’a thought less of me." Steve murmured, not really needing to hear the end of the sentence to know where Bucky had been going. He felt a little ashamed of himself, but even after all these years, he was _still_ afraid of being rejected by Bucky, because if not for him, he would have nothing.

"Has it always been about the fellas for you?"

"No. Well…yeah. I like dames too, always have but….I started notice’n guys about the same time I started notice’n dames…" He admitted, a little embarrassed, because _god_ , he was lying in bed with his best friend who he’d just been neck’n with and they were talking about his sexual preference. And as if that wasn’t strange enough, Bucky didn’t seem to mind. Not just that Steve was as queer as a three-dollar bill, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the kissing either. Slowly, he lifted his gray eyes to Steve’s still looking worn, and tired, but the ghost of a smile lingered on his lips.

"Yer lips felt good." He said quietly, his eyes closing as he settled his head into Steve’s pillow. "Wouldn’t mind if ya’d…y’know…if you wanted to-" He stammered uncertainly, his face actually heating with a gently pink flush.

Steve leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s neck. This whole thing was confusing, and where they stood was hazy, but Steve had wanted to kiss Bucky his entire life, and Bucky had just asked him. He wasn’t going to turn that down. As Steve’s warm mouth came in contact with the skin of his throat, Bucky moved his hands up, softly threading them through Steve’s blond hair. He wasn’t tugging, or gripping, just holding them there, holding Steve close to him as he desperate soaking in the contact from the one person he trusted completely.

Steve worked his mouth softly up Bucky’s neck, kissing a warm trail from his collarbone to just bellow his ear. His skin was warm, and flushed beneath his lips. Bucky hands caressed softly through his hair. As Steve pressed kisses along the under side of his jaw he shifted slowly. The blond haired man pulled himself off if the mattress, rolling over to rest his weight over Bucky’s hips, and despite the position, sex was the furthest thing from Steve’s mind. He wanted to make Bucky feel safe. He wanted to sooth away the pain and the trauma of his imprisonment, and if kissing him help then that what he’d do. But his motive was pure and simple. Make Bucky feel safe.

Steve lavished every inch of Bucky’s neck with kisses, softly working his lips from his collarbone to his jawline. He did little else, save for gently resting his hands on Bucky’s chest. He didn’t have permission to do anything else. He didn’t know if Bucky _wanted_ him to do anything else. At least, Bucky was content as it was. He had gone relaxed under Steve’s gentle hands, his eyes closed, lips parted as Steve softly worked his mouth across his neck. It was a nice change after seeing him so tense and upset earlier.

Steve drug his open mouth softly up the very front of Bucky throat, moving to kiss under his chin when he felt Bucky’s hand carefully untangle from the resting place in his hair. He paused, uncertain as to what the movement meant. Steve closed his eyes, waiting for Bucky to either settle, or give him some signal to stop, because without one, he may never. He’d pined over Bucky for so long that he felt privileged for any measure of intimacy he was allowed. The blond eyes fluttered open suddenly as he felt Bucky’s hands cup softly along his jawline, pulling him slightly.

Steve blinked, wordless, and stunned as Bucky drew in up level with his mouth, his gray eyes half-lidded, his damp, red lips parted. There was a look of raw desperation on his face that, like Steve, he didn’t need sex, not just now, but he wanted to be closer. He needed him closer. “Y’okay with kiss in’ me?” He managed, his voice a little over a whisper.

A faint smile tugged at Steve’s lips, and he leaned closer, brushing his nose softly against Bucky’s, drawing the other man’s body closer against his. “Been want’n to kiss you since I was a kid Buck.” He admitted, his breath warm on his best friend’s waiting lips. It was strange to even consider kissing his best friend. Yeah, he’d wanted too, he’d always wanted too, but now that they were actually here, lying together in the dark barracks. Steve was settled on top of him and Bucky was asking him, outright asking him to kiss him. And Steve would do anything for Bucky.

The blond haired man moved in, nervous, and tentative, daring to risking moving his hands to the back of Bucky’s neck. He cupped the base of his head in his wide, warm palms, feeling Bucky move so compliantly with his touch. He was so receptive. He looked so open. Bucky’s chin was tipped up slightly, his lips parted, but he waited for Steve to take the initiative.

"Y’don’t have’ta if do it if you don’t wanna." He murmured thickly "kid crushes don’t mean nothin’ if you don’t want to kiss me now."

Bucky’s quiet reassure coaxed a small smile from Steve’s lips and he nuzzled closer, his lips brushing softly over Bucky’s “Never stopped want’n to….” He breathed, cradling his head closer.

"Then get on with it punk. I’ve been waitin’ for you to kiss me since we were twelve."

And that’s what Steve needed, because now, he _knew_ Bucky wanted him. This wasn’t just Bucky, broken, and frightened, craving comfort and a warm mouth. This wasn’t Bucky, so desperate for any kind of gentle touch that he’d take it from anyone, even another guy. This was Bucky finally being fragile enough to admit that he’d wanted Steve his whole life. This was Bucky knowing he’d almost died, that Steve’d lost him; and that’s what had made him certain that he wanted Steve more than anything, but _only_ if Steve would have him. He wanted Steve to have all of him. He wanted to give that to him. But right now, he just wanted Steve to kiss him. He just wanted to feel safe.

With one last shaky breath, Steve leaning in, experimentally touching his lips to Bucky’s. After a moment passed and Bucky didn’t change his mind or shove him away, Steve allowed himself to do what he’d been dreaming about doing since he was a kid. He cupped Bucky’s face in his hands and captured the other man’s mouth in a tender kiss. Bucky’s mouth was warmer, softer, than Steve could have ever imagined it. He moved in receptivity, tangling his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down, and pressing himself closer. The rest of the world faded to static and white noise and all that matter was the warmth of Bucky’s mouth against his.

The soft wetness of the other man’s lips sent a prickle of pleasure down Steve’s spine. Not the kind that demanded a more heated kiss, more intimate touch, but the kind of pleasure that made Steve feel as though suddenly the world was right. He felt as though a hole in his chest had suddenly been filled, and something he’d never known he was missing had come back to him.

Bucky’s touch was pleading and desperate as he nuzzled into the kiss, the warm curve of his wet, red lips fitting perfectly against Steve’s. Under Steve’s palms, Bucky felt fragile, and breakable. He was damaged. He’d been hurt and broken, but he’d exposed himself to Steve. He’d let Steve touch his shatter soul at its most vulnerable point, because he trusted Steve not to hurt him. Bucky trusted him completely. He didn’t flinch when Steve slid his hands to his neck. Uncertainty never fogged his thinking when Steve’s hands moved to softly stroke along his sides.

The blond haired man indulged in the touch, desperately soaking in the sensation that he’d pined for his entire life. He’d imagined what kissing Bucky would feel like. He’d never imagined how incredible it could really feel, because Bucky was soft, and receptive beneath him. His mouth worked gently against his own, his finger threading through his hair. The kiss wasn’t rough, or forceful. It was passionate, the kind of passion that had simmered beneath the surface of their friendship since the time they were boys. It was desperate, but not needy, or grabbing. It was a soft, gentle release of so many years of desire and longing. It was Steve wanting to care for Bucky more than he wanted to kiss him, and it was Bucky, who’d come so close to never seeing Steve again, wanting to kiss him more than anything.

Moments, and minutes, and god knows how long merged seamlessly, neither man caring how late the night worn on. It was enough to be wrapped in the others arms. It was enough to feel wanted.

Bucky chin dipped slightly, and Steve reluctantly broke the kiss, his open, wet mouth still brushing softly against Bucky’s. “Bucky…” He managed, his name the only word his mind could conjure. There was nothing else. Bucky captivated his every thought.

In response to Steve’s muted little gasp of his name, Bucky smiled. He looked exhausted, and worn thin. He looked unkempt, dirty, and breathless. He looked…comfortable. He looked like he felt safe. “That all y’can manage Stevie?” He whispered, pressing a tired kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Steve swallowed, forcing his mind to focus. “After that- yeah.” He breathed, exhaling deeply and pressing in again, drawing Bucky’s mouth to his. He kissed him deeply, their mouth’s pressing together as Steve leaning in, aching for the intimacy. Bucky was limp under Steve’s touch, and he pulled back, for the first time since they started, feeling a flicker of uncertainty.

As Steve pulled away, Bucky looked up at him, a little smile tracing his lips. “Yer fine.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

"You’re exhausted." Steve countered, moving to slowly lift his weight off of Bucky’s chest and hips.

The brunet startled, his eyes suddenly snapping open, haunted with fear. “No!” He barked desperately, gripping the front of Steve’s shirt, arresting his motion. He froze, starting up at him with open fear and desperation. His red lips parted slowly, still damp with excess saliva, his breath escaping him in soft gasps. “Please.” He whispered after a moment, clinging to Steve’s shirt like a child. For a few, blissful minutes, he’d forgotten all about his imprisonment. He’d forgotten all about the torture, the testing, and starvation. He’d forgotten about mechanically murmuring his name, rank, and serial number over and over again as they beat him, pressed him for information, and cut into him with knives and scalpels. For a few brief moments, he’d forgotten the waves if agony following the injections he’d been given, and the horrible moments when he couldn’t remember who he was. For a short while, it had all been gone, and it was all because of Steve.

Slowly, Steve lowered himself back down into the cot, resting beside him now, rather than over top of him. He studied Bucky with open concern, seeing the ghost of the torture he’d endured flickering in his eyes, reflecting his pain like shattered glass. He eased his weight down, watching him, studying his expression. Steve moved slowly, reaching out to cup Bucky’s face once more in the palm of his hand. The brunet’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft gasp of relief escaping his parted lips.

"Don’t go Steve." He breathed earnestly, blindly reaching up to touch his face, to draw him closer in the darkness. "Please. _Please_ don’t go…" The words fell from his lips like a prayer, his head craning up so that he could nuzzle softly against his face. Bucky had always been affectionate, but it had usually been on his terms. He had been initiating. He had been comforting. Now he was asking for that in return. Bucky wanted Steve’s affection, his assurance, his strong arms wrapped around him, chasing away his nightmares. He wanted him to stay.

Steve swallowed hard, a knot forming in his throat as he saw all the bare hurt and damage reflected in his best friends expression. How could be walk away from him and leave him like this? He couldn’t. It went against everything in him. He was physically incapable of walking away. Steve leaned down, softly closing the distance between their lips once more. He pressed Bucky back down onto the mattress so he no longer had to hold himself up. He carded his finger through his unkempt hair, soothing his fears, easing the tension in his body. Steve held the kiss until Bucky had grown relaxed beneath him once more, slowly pulling back, regretting that he had to break to intimate interaction.

"Bucky, I need you to sleep." Steve murmured against his mouth, pecking him softly on the lips.

"but-" Bucky started, but Steve hushed him softly.

"I’m not goin’ anywhere. M’stayin’ right here with you." He promised, carefully shifting his position and pressing another soft kiss, this time to Bucky’s throat. "I won’t let you go…but you’ve gotta sleep for me…you’re safe here…Won’t let anythin’ hurt you…."

Even as Steve spoke, Bucky’s eyelids were pulling heavily, dropping closed. “When I wake up…” He slurred, allowing Steve to turn his numb, heavy body onto its side, curling up along the curve of his spine.

"I’ll be right here." Steve whispered, burying his nose in the soft, dark hairs at the base of Bucky’s neck. He inhaled deeply, feeling the way Bucky first perfectly along the curve of his body, smelling the cool air drifting up from the dirt floor. Cold air was beginning to seep beneath the edge of the tent’s canvass walls, and Steve drew the thin blanket up from the base of the bed, dragging his dress jacket along with it. He wrapped the second jacket tightly around Bucky’s shoulder, snugging it in around his neck as he draped the coarse, scratchy blanket over the two of them. He settled in against Bucky’s warm body, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest.

"Stevie?" The word sounded hollow in the nearly deserted tent, and Steve drew Bucky’s battered cram closer against him.

"Yeah Buck?"

"What are we?"

Steve hesitated a moment, his eyes unfocused in the darkness. He didn’t have an answer for Bucky. They were best friends, of course, they always had been, and they always would be, no matter what else happened to them in their lifetimes. But didn’t tonight make them something else too? They’d lain in the darkness together. They’d kissed. They’d held each other, running their hands over each other’s necks, chests, and waists in ways that far exceeded platonic affection. Was Bucky his boyfriend? Lover? Did he _want_ any of that? Steve had no idea, and it was too early to tell. He didn’t know much anymore when it came to himself and Bucky, but he did know one thing.

"I love you." Steve said honestly, phrasing it as an answer to Bucky’s question. He could feel Bucky pausing, soaking the words in and weighing them carefully.

"But- what are we?" He asked again, frowning into the darkness, and once again, Steve found himself uttering the most honest answer.

"I have no idea." He said softly. "All I know is that I love you, and I’m never lettin’ you outta my sight again."

At this, Bucky cracked an exhausted smile, exhaling softly as he settled into Steve’s arms. “Yer so dramatic…” He muttered sleepily, reaching back a heavy hand to guide Steve’s face into the crook of his neck.

Steve smirked, obligingly turning his head in, softly kissing Bucky’s neck as the other man drifted off. “Go to sleep Buck.” He whispered, nuzzling his jawline. “Figure it out tomorrow…”

 


End file.
